been learning here how to grow larger
by gidget89
Summary: He knows she has painful memories. It's nobody's fault. If he could remove them, he would. Wouldn't he?  written for Holiday fic exchange


_**I've been learning here how to grow larger than the monsters alive in my dreams**_

_you don't need to save me  
>I already did that myself<em>

He lands in a park.

Children are screaming in delight, probably on some unseen playground, and he can hear the laughter before he even opens the door and steps out into the warm May sunshine. Spring is one of his favourite times of year – the world seems that much newer and shinier – full of potential and chance for re-growth.

It's an unremarkable park, with nothing to set it apart from any other park in the world, save for the form of one Amelia Pond, sat on a bench not ten feet away – her hair ablaze in the sunlight and her gaze distant. The Doctor steps out with a frown – he wonders where Rory is, but walks over and throws himself onto the bench next to her anyway. "Amelia Pond!"

Amy turns a calm face to him, and she attempts a smile, but it only makes it halfway up the corner of her mouth before it slides away again, like smoke in a stiff breeze. He frowns and wraps an arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side. "What's the matter Pond?"

"Doctor," Amy begins hesitantly, shooting a glance in his direction before turning her gaze in front of them again, "what are you doing here?"

The Doctor looks ahead too, and ah – just there – he can see the before unseen playground twenty yards away. Its climbing structures are painted in bright primary colours and children clamber across it one by one. "Dunno. Thought maybe you'd tell me. Just landed here." Amy hums, the sound so low he barely hears her. "Where's Rory, Amy?"

"Hm? Oh he's at work. The hospital rotates weekend shifts, you know. I just – have you ever had something happen to you Doctor, something really quite sad, only later on you remember it – and suddenly it's so much _sadder_?" Amy blinks rapidly as she speaks and he frowns, his arm squeezing her tighter.

"What's happened?" He is concerned of course – he's always concerned about the Ponds. He doesn't see them as often as he used to, but he still visits them, which is odd, for him. Most of his goodbyes are final, but he is tied to Amy and Rory in ways that he cannot – and would not – avoid. Amy shakes her head with a sigh.

"Nothing _really_. I was clearing through some things this morning – you know, spring cleaning right? I always put it off but I was antsy today. Restless energy or something, so I decided to clean and organize all our boxes in the attic. It was fine, really, until I found this." Amy's hand uncurls and the Doctor can see that she's got a folded photograph in her clutch. She nods at him, and he takes it from her, letting her go and leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he carefully unfolds it.

It's an old photograph. He recognizes Amelia of course, her parents on either side of her beaming away. A little boy he assumes is Rory is standing off to the left, grinning at the small family. "Is that Rory?" The Doctor grins and Amy smiles down at the photo softly, reaching across to stroke a finger over little Rory's face.

"Yeah. He was always a scrawny little thing, wasn't he? But he was always there."

"Waiting." The Doctor nods and Amy shrugs.

"And look." She taps a purple nail against the photo just behind Rory, and there stands a little girl – arms crossed with a rather sullen expression. The Doctor's eyes widen in recognition and Amy nods. "Mels."

"Oh..." He breathes the word out as he studies the face in the photograph. He is reminded of her words, so long ago now, in a Library he desperately tries to forget. "Unfinished."

"I sat down and thought about it, you know? _Really_, properly thought it. When we were all little – Mels was... she was never a _happy_ girl, you know? She always had that edge, even as a kid. She'd never – if you tried to _hug_ her, she'd flinch. Even with me and Rory – but especially with adults. She'd wear long-sleeve shirts in the middle of summer and just say she was cold. She'd miss so much school – and when she came back afterward, she'd just look wrung out. All of that – Doctor, back then all of that just made me sort of look after her. I don't think I understood, but part of me _knew_. It broke my heart. And now – knowing what I know _now_ – it just _shatters_ it." Her eyes fill with tears as she speaks and the Doctor can feel his chest tighten. "What did they _do_ to her? What did they – did they _hurt_ her? Did they – and I don't think she'd ever, _ever_ tell Rory or I now."

He hugs her tightly and she buries her face by his shoulder, and he blinks back his own tears because he's a stupid, _selfish _man and he's been so preoccupied with River's future - with her present and his past that he's never even thought to ponder _her_ past. Not in anything but the vaguest of senses. He thinks maybe his own brain has been hiding these thoughts from him – certain things he cannot think on. Certain things have to be sealed away, and he has to forget and laugh and wear silly hats or else he'd go mad. His very hearts ache in his chest sharply as Amy pulls back.

"Doctor, you told me once – that when you were little they made you look into that thing and that's what made you Timelords. And people would wonder or run or go mad." Amy bit her lip and his hearts sank.

"The untempered schism." He sighs softly and shakes his head. "It's not what makes us Timelords, Amy. Not just _looking_ – exposure to it for billions of years altered Gallifreyan DNA. When I was small – it was more of a ceremonial graduation into Timelord society. But they couldn't have – I mean they'd not have access, I don't think."

"You said it hurt."

"It did. Me. It hurt me – I ran, I told you that. But River is – she's born _of_ the Vortex, Amy, I'm not sure it would be the same for her." He sighs and she nods.

"But they would have – Kovarian, she wasn't – they wouldn't- what did they _do_ to her Doctor? She's not ever talked about it with Rory or I. But she must talk to someone. She must have talked to _you_." Amy is looking at him in earnest now and he hugs her once more. He knows many things, but he has no words to comfort her, so he does what he always does: he lies.

"She wouldn't ever tell you Amy. She wouldn't ever worry you but she is _fine_ now. You know that."

"She's talked to you then?" Amy's arms tighten around him and she buries her face by his tweed clad shoulder. "She's – you _know_, right? She's told you and you've – I don't know, you've made it better for her right? I just want to hold her and tell her that-" Her words stop and she drops her forehead to his shoulder and he hugs her tighter.

"Yes of course Amy. Of course I have. Do you remember Vincent, Amy? And what I told you then?"

"That we made his pile of good things bigger?" Amy's voice is muffled against the tweed of his coat and he nods.

"I _swear _to you Amy, between you and Rory and me – River's pile of good things will make the bad look like a molehill."

"You promise?" Amy's question is tentative and he nods into her hair.

"I promise."

_xx_

Afterwards he stands in his console room, unsure of what to do.

He wants to go back to Graystark Hall and find little Melody.

He wants to go to Leadworth in 1994 and find Mels.

He wants to find River, _his_ River.

He is so torn; he simply stands there, staring at the monitor, undecided. The doors open behind him and he turns to see River there, a soft smile on her face and a certain amount of wisdom in her eyes that he recognizes. "River..." His hearts leap, and his smile is genuine – he is always so happy to see her. Even, or perhaps especially, today.

"Hello, sweetie." She greets him calmly, moving up the stairs to press a soft kiss to his cheek as his fingers wrap around her upper arms and he stops her from stepping back. He turns his head so he can lean forward and kiss her on the mouth, one of his hands sliding up over her shoulder and up her neck to tangle in her curls.

She hums in appreciation, yanking him closer and returning the kiss fiercely. She bites his lower lip and the hand not in her hair flails a bit, before settling back on her hip. When she pulls back she is grinning. "Mmm, I do love you all awkward."

"Oh do I get _not_ awkward then?" He fishes and she laughs, a low throaty sound that slides from his neck down his spine to settle, a low vibration at the base of his back.

"Bless, no, honey. But I _do_ love you anyway." Her smile is smug and he sighs, pulling her closer – or making the attempt which only results in her sliding around about his front, because he cannot _get_ any closer without crawling inside her. The thought causes his brain to trip and stutter for a moment. "Were you visiting Mum and Dad?"

All of his previous thoughts return and his face falls as he looks down at her seriously. "Amy needed me."

"Oh?" She is curious, he can tell and he moves away from her, his fingers the last thing to stop touching her, tangled as they are within her hair. He strides with purpose around the console, flicking switches and wibbling levers that send them off into the Vortex. She follows behind him, adjusting things as they go, but he doesn't turn around or ask her what she's doing. Suddenly he twirls around and she runs straight into his chest with such force that she stumbles back, her face wearing an expression of surprise.

"It's only just occurred to me River." He starts, his tone is low and filled with tension and she stills - her head tilting as she listens to him. "You know everything about me."

"Not _everything_, my love." She doesn't tease or smile, and he knows that something in his face must be giving her pause. Perhaps he isn't hiding all of these thoughts flooding the surface of his mind like flotsam and jetsam as well as he thought.

"When do I know everything about _you_?"

She swallows, a panicked light creeping into her eyes. "What do you mean? You know me, don't you? You know who I _am_." She stutters, her voice soft and nervous and he drags a hand through his hair, shrugging off his tweed and tossing it over the railing easily.

"Yes, yes, of _course._ But DNA doesn't make you _who_ you are River. There's more to the story – and you – you know every story of my long life. You know about my triumphs and failures and I've told you about-" he pauses, swallowing heavily and sighing, his hands landing on his hips as he peers up at her from under his fringe. "About all of my friends."

"Yes, of course, sweetie. But I don't understand. You _know _me. You know all about me." She shakes her head in confusion and he stares at her, studying the fall of her hair and the small wrinkle in her brow.

"How long did it take you to get from Florida to New York, River? _How_ did you get there? How did you get to Leadworth? How did they – how did they _make_ you into _this_?" He can read the pain on her face as clear as day. How still she goes, the way her lower lids raise just slightly and her eyes shine in the soft lighting of the TARDIS. He wonders how _stupid_ he must have been in the past – missing all of these signs so many times. So very many times. She swallows and leans a hip against the console, crossing her arms.

"I _walked_. Hitch hiked when I could and snuck onto trains and buses when I was too tired. It took me five months to run and run and run. And it killed me." Her voice is flat and he feels all of his misplaced anger bleed out of him. He moves over next to her, leaning against the console and crosses his own arms as he stares at her, his hearts aching.

"I've tried not to think about it, River. But Amy – Amy looks on it with a mother's pain, and she reminded me-"

"We've made our peace with it together, Doctor. My mother and I. Not for her yet though, obviously. I never thought _we_ needed to – I have always just assumed you understood." River sighs softly and looks at him seriously. "I need you to understand – it wasn't pretty. I don't remember a _lot_. Especially as Melody. The Silence were with me so much. I still have nightmares sometimes. Flashes of images in the dark, being terrified all the time, red paint and writing words that kept disappearing on the walls. That spacesuit..."

"Why did you run then? It bothered me then, but even more so now that I know that it was _you_. Eight years she – _you_ were there. Why did the emergency telephone system kick in _then?_" He moves closer to her as he speaks and she leans into his shoulder with ease. She turns, dropping her arms and lifting her hands to rest against his chest, over his two hearts. Her fingers stretch, curling around his braces as she looks up at him.

"I was _eight_ Doctor. What do you think happened? I'm more Timelord than human. And part of that is the TARDIS herself, and part of it is genetic manipulation when I was in the womb, but _most_ of it was staring into _all_ of time and space when I was eight years old."

"_No_." He breathes the word out in horror, a visceral rejection of everything she is saying. He lifts his hands, pressing them to the side of her face, pushing her hair back until his last three fingers on each hand are tangled within it, with his thumb and pointer fingers resting on her temples and cheeks. "No, River. No – they couldn't have possibly had access-"

"Easy enough to rip a hole in time and space, my love." She shrugs and he drops his forehead to hers, wishing suddenly that she'd just never met him. Never known him, never been _tailored_ for him. In every way. By everyone. Kovarian and Amy and Rory and the TARDIS herself.

"Please, no, River." Tears are in his eyes and she shushes him, the tips of her fingers tracing Galifreyan words of peace and calmness and comfort across his chest.

"I ran, and kept running. And it wasn't pretty. I was a _child_ on the streets Doctor, and I suppose I should just thank my lucky stars that it was 1969, because it could have been worse." Her voice is a whisper and his hands tighten on her face. He had to hear _all_ of it.

"And Leadworth?"

"I regenerated into a toddler." She shrugs. "I couldn't do anything and they found me almost immediately. All that energy – I even regenerated in _front_ of someone for heaven's sake. I didn't _know_."

"But what did they _do_ to you River? Amy said – you didn't like to be touched. Not even by her. And she said-" She stops his flow of words with her mouth, pressing a bruising kiss against his lips. She is all lips and teeth and tongue and he thinks she bites his lip, but he doesn't care because he is falling into her. When she pulls back just as suddenly as she moved in he is left in a daze, blinking at her owlishly.

"I was a soldier. Trained like a soldier. _Disciplined_ like a soldier Doctor. I only knew touch that harmed. Amy – she _tried_, she did - when we were younger, but she couldn't – one small girl wasn't enough to erase a lifetimes worth of conditioning. _You_ did that – as terrible as Berlin was, it taught me that that touch can _heal_ too. I healed you." A tear escapes and rolls down her cheek, sliding over his thumb as he stares at her.

"I could take it away you know. All that pain – River."

"Don't you _dare_ try to rewrite us, Doctor." Her eyes flash and he shakes his head swiftly.

"No! No not that, but I could – I could _take it away_." His fingers press against her temple harder and her eyes widen. She licks her lips and swallows before shaking her head.

"Don't you understand? They already took so much of my memory away. Those creatures, those _things_. Even if what I have left is nearly all bad and almost little good – which it's _not _by the way, I had Amy and Rory as a kid and they helped me immensely – but even if it _was_, I still wouldn't want to lose more of myself. How would that change _me_? Who I am now?" She looks at him with her emotions written so clearly across her face he could write them out on her skin.

So he does. His hands let go and he carefully traces the word for 'love' across her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder and over her hearts. "I love everything you are too much to change it. But I wish – River I wish –"

"I know, my love." Her smile trembles at the corners of her mouth and he presses three soft kisses there, feeling the quiver of her lips under his. "I _know_."

"I ran too." He confesses against the skin of her cheek and she nods.

"I know that too." She flattens her hands over his hearts once more, tension easing out of her frame as she sways toward him.

"Is there anything you don't know?" He pouts in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere and she quirks a smile at her.

"I don't know your past with me." She points out and he pulls her into his frame until her hips slot against his.

"You know some of it," he chides. "And the rest can't be told. Has to be lived, River Song. And don't you change a _thing_." He kisses her jaw, her neck, her clavicle and her breathing increases. "So I suppose you know how very much I love you?"

"Mmm, I _do_." She smiles and he grins against her skin before lifting his head.

"Ah but I didn't know that you knew, so allow me to tell you again." She slides her arms up over his shoulders, to wrap around his neck, her fingers burying themselves in his hair.

"And again and again?" She breathes the words out as she looks up at him, and there is that low tingle in his back again, and the air seems thicker, making their movements more languorous.

"And maybe once more – just to be sure." He kisses her again, and then whispers that he loves her in her language before kissing her once more and whispering it in his. "I know over 800 languages you know." His voice is smug and she smiles and arches a brow. Her hands curl into his collar as she yanks him closer with a light laugh.

"Best get started then, Doctor."


End file.
